Fiona Silk Mysteries 2-Book Bundle (19 page)

The next morning, I jumped out of bed at six and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn't like what I saw. For once it wasn't just the wild corkscrew curls, ash blonde mixed with bits of silver. It wasn't even the blistering forehead or the missing eyebrows. I saw a Grade A malingering coward.

I straightened my shoulders. “Today,” I told the coward, “would be a good time to start relying on yourself. Settle Phil's hash, and if that's not possible, find a way to make your own money again. Get that damn wallet back to the woman everyone loves to hate. Convince the police about the woman in the Escalade. Find the money for the wiring, even if you have to plead with the bank manager for a mortgage. Get started on the book, go see Rafaël and Marietta. Just stop futzing about and whining over this project. And most important, get yourself back to that rehab centre and clear your name. While you're at it, don't forget Tolstoy has an appointment at the V-E-T this afternoon for his shots.”

Of course, it was too early to do any of those things. The Caisse Populaire didn't open until ten a.m., Marietta and Rafaël were probably snoozing, Philip refused to answer any of his phones, and the day admin staff wouldn't have arrived at the rehab centre. So Tolstoy and I tumbled out of the house for a long walk. With the weather still in record heat condition and my long list of chores, it was the last opportunity to take
him for a cool stroll. He needed it, and so did I. I planned to shower and shampoo and get going right after the country walk, so I caught up my out-of-control hair with a scrunchie and hoped I wouldn't see anyone I cared about.

We ambled down the driveway and set out along Chemin des cèdres. Lucky for us, there are few Ottawa-bound drivers on this road, so no need to leap into ditches to avoid coffee-swilling commuters. The air was already warm, but not unbearable. I listened to the hum of insects and the cheer-cheer-cheer from the forty-foot cedar at the end of my driveway. I glanced up to see the brilliant red flash of a male cardinal making his morning rounds. His peachy little mate swooped after him. The past few years, we'd had three breeding pairs of cardinals in our little enclave. Later in the season, I could expect to see the young ones along for the family outing. How would any of them survive Jean-Claude's plans?

An hour later, we had made the loop along the road and were panting towards the house. We were feeling great and planning to dip our feet in the river. A black Buick Lesabre sat idling, windows closed, air conditioning running, as I approached. The engine stopped, the door opened and my insurance agent stepped out, a sheepish half-smile on his pale, freckled face. He must have been well past sixty-five, but Faron Findlay's not likely to retire, ever. He's been my agent as long as I've been in St. Aubaine, and before that he was Aunt Kit's. He's always been helpful and gentlemanly about any small embarrassments over bounced cheques. I am always glad to see Faron, but doubly so because I didn't owe him anything at this point. My insurance was up-to-date and paid.

“Hi there, Fiona,” he said, extending his hand. Tolstoy growled. Faron stepped back. His few sprigs of white hair stood up.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “Don't be rude, Tolstoy.” Tolstoy
bared his teeth. “I don't know what's wrong with him, Faron. It's not like him at all. He's the friendliest dog in the world. You know that.”

Faron stayed flattened against the car. Maybe he didn't know that.

“Tolstoy, behave.”

Another, deeper growl. I was shocked. I had so many things on my mind, and the one creature I could always count on for good behaviour was letting me down.

“Maybe he has a burr stuck between his toes or something. I'll just take him inside and check. Want to join me for a coffee on the porch? I can make iced coffee for you if you like. Might as well enjoy the best part of the day. Even though I still can't afford whatever it is that you are about to propose.”

He shook his head, sadly. “Can't stay. I have a couple of early appointments. I just needed to get this out of the way.”

I blinked. “Get what out of the way?”

“It's hard for me, Fiona. I've always liked you. I remember you way back when you were just a wee girlie visiting here.”

I grinned at him. “I remember you too. I think Aunt Kit was a bit sweet on you. She always baked her special cake if she knew you were dropping by.”

“Please don't make this any harder, Fiona.”

“Make what harder? What are you talking about? Are you retiring or something, Faron?”

He took a deep breath. Stood straighter. It wasn't that hot yet, but I could see the front of his white shirt sticking damply to him. “I'm so sorry, Fiona, but even after our long history, Findlay Insurance will no longer be able to insure your home.”

Tolstoy snarled and lunged. I grabbed him by the collar and marched him into the house. A minute later, I returned. “I must have misunderstood.”

“You didn't. Please understand that I have tried everything to see if I can change that, but...”

“Why not? Why can't you insure it? You've insured it for at least fifty years.”

“The house is unsafe.”

“It is not.”

“You had a problem with your wiring. Had an electrician in.”

“Yes.”

“We've been informed that this place is a death trap. You probably shouldn't even be living here, Fiona.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “The electrician told you that?”

He nodded.

“But he didn't tell me that it was unsafe.”

“Are you sure?”

“He said it needed work. And he said he'd fix it. But he never said it would affect my insurance. He never mentioned death trap. That sort of thing sticks in your mind.”

“You're a writer. Sometimes you're caught up in your work. A bit vague, forgetful.”

“Death trap, Faron. Not so forgettable. But my point is, why would the electrician tell
you?
Why did you ask him about my house in the first place? Why wouldn't you ask me?”

“I didn't ask. He just volunteered the information.”

“He walked into your office and told you about my house?”

“Fiona, please. This is hard enough.”

“I want to know what's going on. The electrician seemed like a nice guy. I didn't realize he had anything against me.”

“I don't think he does. He's probably doing you a favour. Maybe this could save your life. That was the impression I got. I was standing in the Chez waiting for my Chinese take-out, and we got to talking. He knew I was in insurance, and he started telling me about this house that he'd been working on.
Said he was worried. Said...”

“He said he could fix it. He was going to give me a price. He didn't mention to me that I shouldn't be living here, that my life might be in danger. So I don't believe this.”

Faron Findlay opened the door of his car. “I have no choice. I have to cancel your policy. But I can reinstate it the minute you get the work done, bring the place up to code. You just call me, and I'll drop everything. I feel terrible. But not as terrible as I would if I was at your funeral.”

He reached over and handed me an envelope. “You'll receive an official notice of this by registered mail, but I felt I had to tell you face to face first. After all…”

I stood frozen in the driveway and watched Faron speed off. I found I couldn't even move as he rounded the bend and disappeared down the green and leafy road. I opened the envelope and read the cancellation notice. I'd just raised my head again when Jean-Claude cruised by, slowly, in his silver Porsche Carrera.

He gave me a jaunty little wave.

Josey had spent the night back at her own cabin. Uncle Mike had needed a bit of help, apparently, and her burn seemed to be healing nicely. But she managed to get back to town before I left. She listened with horror to the insurance news.

“It's so not fair, Miz Silk. You can't let him get away with it.”

“What choice do I have? I don't have the money to get the wiring fixed yet, although I am working on it. I didn't think it was so bad. The house isn't really worth anything anyway, you know that. But I really don't want it to go up in smoke. Tolstoy doesn't either. And you spend a lot of time here too. You're not
going to be able to spend the night until we get this all settled.”

“I bet that electrician's in his lordship's pocket.”

“Obviously, he must be. Hélène certainly wouldn't be behind it. I can't think of anyone else. Everyone in town knows who Faron Findlay is. But even so...”

“We can't let him get away with it. He's trying to intimidate you into selling to him.”

“I realize that. And I'm not going to sell to him, but it doesn't change the fact that I now have a big problem.”

Josey scowled. “I'm going to find that electrician to tell him what I think of him.”

“You think he's going to admit that he caused me to lose my insurance coverage for a few under-the-table bucks from Jean-Claude? That has to be illegal. Even in St. Aubaine.”

“Leave it to me.”

“No, Josey. Jean-Claude plays dirty. You know that. We have enough trouble without looking for any more. Promise.”

“Okay, but I'm going to find you another electrician, one who will run a tab. So if you don't mind, I'll start packing up the kitchen stuff. I'll find someone to fix your wiring. I'll move the stuff in your office too so he can get at the panel.”

“Sure,” I said, feeling too distracted to argue. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea.

“Okay. The guy's name is Tom, if he shows up. He might say Mike Thring sent him. Don't worry. He'll be sober.”

One of Uncle Mike's buddies? Oh well, it wasn't like I had anything worth stealing.

It was just before nine in the morning. Josey went off to pack everything not nailed down while I answered the door with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in my hand. It was still early enough to swallow hot liquid, although according to the weather guy, that window was about to close. Should I have
been surprised to see Sarrazin on my doorstep so early? In retrospect, perhaps not.

Sarrazin perused the river view, then flicked his gaze to the trees and to my little garden patch, where my Asian lilies were making headway because of the hot weather.

“Hello,” I said.

He checked out the passage of a pair of cardinals swooping toward the feeder.

“Something wrong?” I said.

“Why do you ask?”

No eye contact, for one thing. Shuffling feet, for another. Not typical of Sarrazin, a cop who wears the easy confidence of twenty-five plus years of service.

“No reason,” I said. “How about coffee? Before it gets too hot to drink it.”

Sarrazin accepted the offer, and we took it outside on the porch, not to interfere with the packing.

“So,” I said, after a long while. “What brings you here today?”

He cleared his throat. I smiled encouragingly. Never make the big policeman angry has always been my motto.

“We've had a complaint.”

“What now?” I had no idea where we were going, so I decided not to get unnecessarily unsettled, at least until I needed to.

“It could lead to the laying of charges.”

“Oh.”

“Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?”

I shook my head. “You'll have to tell me.”

“It's from the staff at the rehab centre.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake. That crazy residents' aide, Paulette? I'm heading over there today to set the record straight.”

“There are allegations that you attempted to fraudulently obtain money and goods from a patient.”

“I don't believe this. They can allege all they want. It didn't happen. I was visiting Marc-André Paradis. I foolishly told him about the trouble I was having. He wanted to help.”

Sarrazin watched a blue jay swoop down to the bird feeder, scaring off the cardinals. I hoped he was at least listening.

I continued. “He offered me the money to pay my back taxes.”

“A loan?”

“Yes. I told him I couldn't accept it, and he insisted, and we were going around and around that mulberry bush.”

“You didn't accept?”

“How could I take money from him? He's brain-damaged. He's helpless. He might not even know what he's saying, really. Although I think he did yesterday. But he might not remember it today. Anyway, it's a matter of principle.”

“So you never said you would take any money, nor did you lead him to think you would?”

“That's right. I was trying to explain to him that I couldn't do that when this Paulette burst in. She may have been listening from the hallway or something, but she got it wrong anyway. She called security and made a big fuss. I'm not allowed back there.”

“Huh.”

“I know, it sounds weird, but that's the way it went. I believe she has a bit of crush on him. Marc-André is very attractive to women, you know.” I felt a puce blush racing up my neck as I said this.

“I guess so,” he said.

“I never thought she'd call the police. Isn't that a bit extreme?”

“They claim you were trying to extort money from a seriously disabled individual. That is a crime.”

“But it never happened. Either she misinterpreted, or else she just wanted to get me away from him. You can ask Marc-André
what happened. He'll tell you.”

“We will. I just don't know if that will be enough.”

“My word against hers, you mean.”

“Pretty much.” He put down his coffee cup. “I think those lilies over there are going to need a bit of water,” he said before he rumbled off, leaving me to face my ruined morning.

Before I left, I headed into the office, where Josey was packing with single-minded concentration.

“Please leave out the stuff for my cookbook project, Josey. I'm going to get at it full steam as soon as I take care of a bit of business this morning.”